


speak no evil

by sevenzeroseven



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenzeroseven/pseuds/sevenzeroseven
Summary: shang gets tired of listening to lin. his simple plan to make him shut up backfires spectacularly.





	speak no evil

**Author's Note:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ im just gonna spam the archive with short shite and sprinkle prayers for more tbf fic into the author's notes (PLS y'all write more tbf fic 🙏)

Shang didn’t know what set him off. He only knew that one moment he was bringing the liquor cup to his lips and the next he was setting it down and reaching for something else entirely. Didn’t matter what. He just grabbed the nearest thing, a steamed bun sitting on the edge of his plate.

Lin paused in whatever he was saying and cocked his head to the side at the sudden movement. “Sir Shang—?”

Before he could finish, lips parted halfway, Shang shoved the _mantou_ past them and kept it there.

His hand tightened across Lin’s mouth as he snapped, “Food can’t even shut you up, can it!”

Lang froze across the table followed by Ling Ya’s sharp exclamation of surprise. For once, Lin looked surprised too. His eyes, previously narrowed slits as he exchanged rapid-fire quips with Ling Ya, widened. There was no resistance, save for the slight jerk away, and then (finally) blissful _silence._

For a moment, just a moment, Shang felt a sense of... accomplishment. A rare victory over the Enigmatic Gale, who was more often than not too wily for him to one-up, much less catch off guard.

But before the sensation could even begin sinking in, it disappeared, replaced by a familiar, wet lick across his palm.

Shang jumped back. His chair skidded across wooden floorboards and screeched to a stop short of tipping over.

“You!“ He yanked his hand away with a disgusted noise that would’ve been a yelp if it were higher-pitched and less jaded. “What—“

Shang hadn’t anticipated Lin to pull it off with food in his mouth and before company. He eyed their table in annoyance, empty of anything that could help him, then looked down at his own clothes. His hand slick with Lin’s saliva twitched.

Lin swallowed the rest of the bite with an emphatic gulp and brandished a handkerchief from nowhere. Before he could use it, Shang snatched it for himself. Lin’s handkerchief to clean up Lin’s mess—it seemed fair to him. He wiped his palm across it in two short strokes, but instead of the disgruntled expression he was counting on, Lin adopted a rather pleased one.

(He’d fallen into another trap, hadn’t he?)

“I didn’t expect Sir Shang to feed me,” Lin crooned.

Lang trembled in the corner of his vision. Shang shook his head and opened his mouth to correct him, only to be stopped by Lin’s chopsticks. The other had pinched a helping of fried pork between them. Cupping his free hand beneath it, he pressed the meat toward Shang a second time.

“It’s only right that I return the gesture.”

He said it innocently, but his eyes rapidly darted across the table and back again. Shang could feel the heat rising up his neck. He didn’t know whether it was anger or chagrin.

“Quit joking around!”

“Oi, oi. Are you two always like this?” Ling Ya's tone was suggesting something; Shang could hear it.

“Like hell we are,” he immediately snapped. His sentence hadn't even finished when Lang strummed down violently on Ling Ya’s strings, eliciting another sharp cry from the instrument before quieting.

If only it were that easy with another certain someone.

Lin laughed amidst the commotion, and Shang decided he’d had enough. He kicked his chair farther back, grabbed his half-empty cup, and downed the remaining liquor.

“I’m going to sleep.”

He avoided meeting Lang’s gaze but couldn’t help casting one final glare in Lin’s direction just in time to watch the man place the bite of meat into his mouth. Lin chewed through it slowly and languidly as he fluttered his eyelashes up at him.

“Then, good night, Sir Shang.”

Shang let out a hard breath through his nose before turning to go. His left hand balled up the handkerchief that he’d forgotten to return. His right, the one that Lin had deliberately licked, tingled uncomfortably at his side.


End file.
